


Good Days Only

by discolophon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also feelings, Bondage, Double Penetration, F/M, M/M, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Rule 63, Switching, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Twincest, all kinds of fucking really, some of these tags apply to later chapters, there's just a lot of porn here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9511715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discolophon/pseuds/discolophon
Summary: On bad days, they use each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this story is deanjimstiel with rule63!jimmy, aka jamie (headcanon: short for jemima). [here is a helpful visual for rule63!jimmy](http://discolophon.tumblr.com/post/154023201622). (the way spn styled hannah totally hid some _real fuckin likeness_. look at that bone structure. look at that _brow_. jfc.)
> 
> content warnings: mentions of child abuse. self-loathing. sketchy coping mechanisms.

Sometimes Cas fucks into Dean while Dean fucks into Jamie, or eats her out, or watches Jamie watch them and touch herself.

Sometimes Jamie and Dean string Cas out between them. Cas sits in Dean's lap with his back to Dean's chest and rides Dean's dick while, between Cas's solid thighs, Jamie sucks his cock and works her slender fingers between her own legs. When Cas comes, one hand gripping the back of Dean's neck and the other buried in Jamie's hair, holding her down on him while she swallows and swallows, so does she.

Sometimes Jamie straps on a toy--or Cas straps it on her, dragging his mouth over her skin along the snug lines of the harness--and they put Dean on his hands and knees between them. When Dean comes first, Cas pulls out of his mouth and jerks off in messy spurts all over his face; when Cas comes first, it's down Dean's throat. Jamie fucks Dean with steady rolls of her hips and watches Cas do the same and doesn't say a word about having to wait, but when she finally pulls out of Dean and unstraps her harness, her fingers are shaking and her thighs are slick.

Sometimes Cas withdraws.

The first time it happens, Dean's sucking bruises onto Jamie's throat while he strokes two fingers into her cunt, and the shift of the bed beneath them only catches part of his attention. Distracted, he glances up: Cas is sitting on the far edge of the bed, facing away. "Cas, where you goin'?" he asks, and nips lightly at a straining tendon in Jamie's neck, and smiles when her hand tightens in his hair. "We need you over here, sweetheart."

Cas stiffens, his shoulders tensing up. He doesn't turn back. "I thought--" he says, weirdly stilted. Under Dean, Jamie stills. "--the two of you should--without me."

Jamie starts pushing at Dean, pushing him off her, but he's already sitting up, derailed. They don't do this. Sure, they pair off sometimes--when someone wants to get off watching the other two, or when someone's not in the mood--but that's always the plan from the start. They don't begin together and split midway. Nobody ever goes off alone. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Jamie sounds decisive. She sounds like she has some idea what the hell's going on. Dean touches her hip, pulling her up short as she starts to cross the bed towards Cas; she frowns at him, but whatever unease she finds on his face makes her soften, take his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. "Nothing here is wrong," she repeats, strangely deliberate, before letting Dean go and turning back to her brother. "Cas just needs a minute."

Cas sits motionless on the far side of the bed. The strength of his grip on the edge of the mattress shows all the way up his arms, across his shoulders, down his steel-straight spine.

Jamie crawls to him, takes his face in her hands, turns him to her. She kisses him. She's careful at first, watching him half-lidded as she brushes her closed mouth over his, as she presses down lightly once, again. On the third gentle press Cas breaks: he presses back, opens his mouth around a needy sound, kisses his sister like he wants her to swallow him whole.

They hold each other close when they part, panting into each other's mouths. Jamie smooths her hands up and down Cas's sides while Cas buries his hands in her hair, his arms flexing. "I want you, Castiel," Jamie breathes, and Cas shivers. "I always want you, you know I do--"

Cas cuts her off with another kiss and bears her down onto her back.

Dean watches Jamie cant her hips up to meet Cas's as he pushes into her; he watches Cas slide his hand down Jamie's body, hook it under her thigh, pull her leg up around his waist to fit them more closely together. It's the kind of show Dean usually loves--the twins so hungry for each other, needing each other so fucking blatantly, giving themselves to each other so shamelessly--but whatever Jamie said, something's not right. Dean realizes that, until now, Cas has barely touched either of them tonight. He's been quieter than usual, distant. He helped undress them both, let Dean kiss him while Jamie pressed up behind him and mouthed at his shoulderblades; he got hard, Dean knows he did, he felt Cas's dick against his belly, thick and heavy and smearing sticky wetness at the tip. But Cas didn't encourage them. He let them pull him down onto the bed with them, but he didn't join them there. He tried to fucking leave them there.

And now he's pressing into Jamie like he can't get close enough. Cupping his broad palm to her breast, smoothing it up her throat, veeing his fingers around her ear and stroking his thumb across her cheekbone. And it's not jealousy that's softening Dean's dick against his thigh, but--but the taste of Jamie's skin is fading from his tongue, and her slick has dried on his fingers, and he wants to touch Cas, too, and taste Cas, too--

\--and Cas tried to _leave_ \--

"Dean's watching us, Cas." Jamie's low voice makes Dean's dick twitch. She's watching him, even as she drops gentle kisses along Cas's cheeks and jaw, even as she touches his face and shoulders and the shifting muscles in his back with tender hands. Her focus on Dean feels like a brand, a claim, even as her body moves to meet and take and claim her brother, and relief washes through Dean like a riptide: whatever's going on with Cas, he's still theirs. "Imagine how we must look to him, like this," Jamie says, and Cas drops his head, hiding his face against her shoulder. Fixed on Dean, dark-eyed and steady, Jamie says, "We're beautiful, aren't we, Dean?"

"Gorgeous," he rasps, fervent, honest. It earns him a radiant, encouraging smile. "You're gorgeous together, Cas. You and your sister, fuck, you belong like this. So fucking beautiful."

A fine tremor quakes through Cas's body as the slow rock of his hips turns forceful. Jamie skims one hand into his hair and tilts her head so her lips brush his ear. "Show Dean how much you love me," she murmurs, and an anguished sound tears from Cas's throat, and he pushes his hips hard to Jamie's and comes inside her. Jamie's eyes flutter closed as Cas stills; he slips his hand between them, and her breath hitches, and her back arches.

They're so fucking _beautiful_. Dean wants them so much he shakes.

When they rise to kneel at either side of him, Jamie kisses him deeply. She takes Cas's hand and weaves his fingers with hers, wraps them around Dean's aching dick so they can jerk him off together. Dean comes with Cas mouthing languidly across his shoulders and Jamie dropping soft kisses all over his face, the same way she'd kissed Cas.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sleeps fitfully. He dozes beside Cas and remains constantly aware of him, of Jamie on Cas's other side, and wakes immediately and completely every time one of them shifts or sighs or rustles the bedsheets. His heart pounds hard against his ribs until the movement that woke him settles with the weight on the bed beside him unchanged.

Dean is alert the moment Cas starts to crawl out of bed to go for his morning run. He's at least an hour earlier than usual; Dean can tell by how faint the light is where it fuzzes in around the edges of the blinds. He wonders if Cas knows he's awake. He thinks about making sure Cas knows: sitting up, beckoning him over for a kiss. Whispering that he should make it a short run today, come back quickly, let Dean and Jamie rub him down and share his shower.

He tells himself he's being a needy idiot. He closes his eyes and keeps his breathing even, listens to Cas get dressed and pull the bedroom door carefully shut behind him. He tracks Cas's progress through the house from one creaky floorboard to the next until he hears the front door close downstairs.

And then there's Jamie, crossing the space Cas left between them to curl up against Dean. She put on a shirt to sleep in; the thin, body-warm cotton fits her loosely, wrinkling between them as she presses in close. Her hair spills softly across his skin as she lays her head on his shoulder. Her fingertips make small, restive movements on his collarbone.

"When Cas and I were kids," she says quietly, plainly, "fidgeting in church was punished with a night spent standing in the garage. All night, in the dark, sock feet on cold cement. Alone. That started when we were four."

Dean's eyes open wide. He'd already known they hadn't had a great childhood; it was one of the things they'd all been able to bond over, back when they were first figuring out this thing between them, their draw to each other. But Dean's dad had always been more for bursts of anger, sudden bruising grips or hauled-off slaps, loud and shocking and then over and done. When he'd told Jamie and Cas about it, they'd sympathized, but Dean had the distinct impression they couldn't really relate. No wonder, if they'd been used to this slower, more considered violence. "Jesus, Jamie. When you were four? That's fucked up."

"We were the pastor's kids. We were expected to set good examples." She says it with the mocking tone Dean's used to hearing when she's being playful--which, for Jamie, usually means she's being a sarcastic little shit. But when she continues, that wry distance turns close and bitter. "We were raised on judgement and punishment and the idea that almost anything that felt good or made us happy was wrong."

_Nothing here is wrong,_ she'd said last night, when Cas was trying to leave Dean and Jamie to themselves but couldn't make it all the way off the bed. Dean starts to understand why. He pets her hair, smoothing down the raked mess of flyaways it always turns into after sleep or sex. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

"It was a long time before we could admit that we wanted each other the way we did. And even after, sometimes Cas would try--" Dean feels her mouth twist, too harsh to be a smile. "--he'd stop me. I'd sneak into his room and crawl into his bed and kiss him, and he'd stop me and say, 'You shouldn't want this, Jamie.' Hard against my hip, staring at my mouth, and so damn agonized for _me_ , as if I didn't spend every night I couldn't be with him getting myself off thinking about him."

The mockery's back, but it's humourless. She talks about getting herself off like she's daring him to disapprove. Dean covers her fingers where they're worrying at his chest, stilling them, then starts soothing his hand up and down her arm. "He hurt you," he says gently.

The tension wound up in her body releases. She softens against him, nestling in closer. "It wasn't his fault," she sighs, and Dean knows Cas has long been forgiven. "And he hurt himself, too. We didn't deserve to be punished for feeling the way we did. He figured that out eventually, the same way he figured out he didn't deserve to be punished for wanting men too." She shifts, then props herself up to look searchingly down at him. She looks tired. Dean thinks none of them slept well last night. "By the time we met you he was comfortable with himself, and he's only gotten more comfortable since. He hasn't had a bad day like last night in a long time, and--" She frowns, her brow furrowing. "--I'm not sure I handled it as well as I could have. Dean, if we made you feel left out, I'm sorry."

In the dim morning light, the drooping collar of the shirt Jamie's wearing shows off the love bites Dean left all over her neck and shoulders, her pale skin all marked up where his mouth had been. It's his Zep IV shirt, he realises, possessiveness bolting through him. His lingering shreds of uncertainty melt into warm affection. "I did feel left out, for a minute," he tells her, forcing himself to speak as plainly as she has. He can't quite look her in the eye, though; instead, he watches his hand rise to stroke over her hair, tuck a loose curl behind her ear. "It was, uh. I didn't like it." He trails his fingers over the bruises on her throat and feels her shiver. "But you turned it around. And now you've explained, so we can, you know. Be on the same page next time. Work it through together."

"I don't want there to be a next time." Lying back down, she tucks her head under his chin, wraps her arm around his chest, hooks her leg over his thigh. Dean relaxes beneath her, pleasantly trapped. "I know Cas doesn't, either, it's just. Sometimes he gets it into his head that he doesn't deserve to have what he wants."

Dean mutters, "Well, he ain't alone in that." Jamie makes an assenting noise and kisses his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

Sometimes Dean puts Cas on his knees and uses his mouth. Cas keeps his eyes open as Dean fucks his face, watching him get off on Cas's swollen lips and heavy gaze.

Sometimes Jamie fucks herself in Cas's lap, holding onto his nape as her hips roll against him. Cas keeps her steady with one broad hand splayed on her back and stares down at where his cock slides into her, watching her take him and take him.

Sometimes Cas touches Dean's rim while he's fucking him. He skims his fingertips where Dean's stretched around his dick, rubs at the tight circle of muscle as it pulls him in, feels himself fit there. Slips a finger in alongside his cock to give Dean that much more of him.

Sometimes Jamie runs her mouth, telling Cas how good Dean's making her feel, how wet she is. She gets Dean to describe how she feels under his fingers or around his dick. How he feels knowing Cas is right there with them, watching them fuck. She tells Cas how much she wants to come--how much she wants Cas to see Dean make her come--and Cas touches himself with shaking hands and watches like he's seeing something holy.

Sometimes Jamie gets anxious.

It tunes her wrong, tight and off-pitch. She rakes her clawed fingernails across Dean's skin hard enough to raise welts, bites Cas's mouth red, and it's nothing she wouldn't do during one of their rougher sessions, but the feeling behind it is too desperate, too reckless. Like she can't quite believe they're really there. Like she's trying too hard to prove it.

"Need you," she tells them, sharp-toothed and clutching, and anyone who knew her less would think she was angry, not afraid. "Inside me, fuck. _Fuck me_ , I need it, I need you--"

Cas crowds her up against Dean's chest and stills her there. He pets her hair, her face, her shoulders and arms and wrists, implacably gentle. He kisses her temples, her flushed cheeks, her pale throat; he makes his way down her body, patient and methodical, sharp collarbones to round breasts to long, quivering torso. Dean watches over Jamie's shoulder, captivated. He strokes his hands in Cas's wake and feels the dampness of saliva and sweat on Jamie's fevered skin.

When Cas drags his parted lips from the jut of Jamie's hipbone onto the soft rise of her belly, he murmurs, "Dean, get her ready," and Jamie shivers and goes pliant. Dean's dick twitches against the small of her back, anticipation curling hotly in his gut, and he has to stop himself from rutting against her, chasing friction. Instead, he drops a kiss under her ear and lets her go to reach for the bottle of lube.

Cas spreads her legs and settles between them, palms her hips with his thumbs riding the join of thighs and pelvis, and tilts her to his mouth. Dean takes her full weight, wrapping one arm around her with his hand settled low enough on her stomach to feel the tickle of Cas's hair; his other hand reaches down to rub the lube-slick pads of his fingers over her hole. She squirms at his touch, her hips hitching unevenly back against his hand, forward against Cas's mouth, and the sound she makes, the fucking _hunger_ in it, goes straight to Dean's dick. He rubs at her harder, a little harder, until he can nudge one finger carefully in.

They get her off with Cas sucking her clit, licking into her, holding her to his mouth and drinking her down while Dean opens her up with slow, firm fingers. As it washes through her, she fists her hands in Cas's hair and grinds against his face, bears down hard enough on the two fingers Dean's scissoring in her ass that he has to stop moving until she's finished. The second she lets up on Cas, he rises to lean over her shoulder and kiss Dean, hard, and Dean moans: Cas has Jamie smeared all over him, her slick, her scent, her taste. Dean loves tasting them like this, Cas covered in Jamie or Jamie covered in Cas, just like he knows they love tasting each other on him. He sucks Jamie off her brother's lips, licks her from his tongue, while beneath her his hand works and works, easing a third finger into the hot, tight clutch of her hole.

Her first orgasm doesn't calm her long: soon she's rocking fiercely down on Dean's hand, holding Cas's shoulders for leverage, begging, "In me, now, now--please--" She tenses up when Dean pulls his fingers free, but Cas is right there, reaching for her as he lays back. Eager, she pushes away from Dean, straddles Cas on her knees; takes his precome-soaked dick in her hand and positions it at her cunt and sinks down, taking him in to the root in a smooth, stunning drop. Her head tips back when she's flush to Cas's hips, her eyes falling shut, her hair spilling in a dark mess over her shoulders. They give her a moment, Cas smoothing his hands up and down her thighs, Dean rubbing her back.

When Dean puts his mouth to her ear and whispers, "Ready, sweetheart?" Jamie rocks down on Cas in an instinctive, shivery fuck and breathes _yes_. She goes easily as Dean pushes her gently forward, pressing her down until Cas can tangle his hands in her hair and kiss her slack mouth. She tenses again when Dean lines himself up at her hole; when he pushes in, she lets out a mewl, drops her forehead against Cas's, and just fucking takes him. Dean slides into her as easily as Cas did, bottoms out with a shaky, half-voiced breath, and has to take a moment of his own.

When he's ready, Cas sits them up: puts Dean on his haunches with Jamie in his lap, pulls Jamie's legs around his own waist, and spreads his thick thighs around Dean's knees. They fuck her like that, Cas in her cunt and Dean in her ass and Jamie cradled between them, strung out and gasping. They share a slow, smooth rhythm that sets Dean simmering, pleasure a liquid heat in his spine, in his legs, pooling low and viscous in his belly. He can feel Cas's dick moving right alongside him inside Jamie, the two of them all up against each other but for the slickhot clutch of her walls between them, and fuck, _fuck_ , he loves that he can help Cas give this to her when she needs it. He reaches around Jamie to spread one hand on the back of Cas's head, cards his fingers through Cas's sweat-damp, sex-wild hair, and meets Cas's dark gaze as he mouths at Jamie's shoulder. He runs his other hand up her side to knead her breast, rubs his thumb over her pebbled nipple. He rocks into her, steady and deep.

"Dean," Cas grates, low and rough and watching. Watching Dean fuck his twin sister; watching her writhe under Dean's touch, on their cocks. "Jamie, _fuck._ " He lays his palm along Jamie's jaw and tilts her head so he can lean in and lick her throat, nip at her chin and her lower lip. The change of angle shifts Jamie on Dean's dick, presses her down tighter in his lap with each of Cas's thrusts, and she moans. Reaching up over her shoulder, she anchors her hand on Dean's nape and arches herself between them, the sine-sweet curve of her spine pushing her tits against Cas's chest and grinding her down on both of them. "More," she rasps, "--more, more--" and Dean growls, because _Jesus_. He shoves two fingers into her mouth, brushing past Cas's thumb where it rides the corner of her lips, and rubs them heavily on her tongue.

Jamie makes a desperate sound and comes, seizing up and trembling. Her hand clenches on Dean's neck, her nails digging in. The sharp pain arrows down his spine, sparks against the _hottightgood_ of her ass squeezing around his dick, and tips him over the edge: he pulses into her over and over, his hips jerking hard. He's working out his last, sluggish stutters when Cas surges forward, pushes Jamie down on Dean and holds her there, buries himself and spills inside her, fills her up.

Jamie comes again, helpless.

They're careful as they pull out, but Jamie makes a faint sound of loss when their softening cocks slip free. Fucked out, blissed out, heavy with relief, she yields to the direction of their hands on her body as they help her to stretch out and lie down. When Dean shifts to get up for water and a washcloth, Cas stops him with a kiss. "I'll go," he says against Dean's mouth, and Dean subsides. He lets Jamie drag his arm over her waist and settle bonelessly beneath it. He goes a little boneless himself, drifting pleasantly as Cas brings them both a drink and sponges sweat and come from their bodies.

By the time Cas joins them in bed, closing Dean's parenthesis on Jamie's other side, Jamie's fast asleep and Dean's halfway into a doze. The gentle stroke of Cas's hand up his arm, then down the side of his neck, rouses him; when he blinks his eyes open, he finds Cas propped up on his elbow, watching him, intent. "Thank you, Dean."

Dean can't help his lazy smirk. "No need to thank me, man," he drawls. "That was literally my pleasure."

For his terrible sense of humour he gets one of the barely-there smiles that, if it were anyone other than Cas, would be a full-on grin, fondness softening his mouth and warming the corners of his eyes. "And you are ours," he murmurs, matter-of-goddamned-fact, his tone a mix of reverence and satisfaction. Dean feels himself blush; Cas's eyes dance to see it. Then, with a darting glance down at Jamie, his expression sobers. "I hope--" he says, intent again, "--I hope you know--whatever you need, Dean, whenever you need it. Please ask."

It's an admission: on bad days, they use each other. They take what they need, and what's needed is given. Cas withdraws; Jamie knows how to bring him back. Jamie gets anxious; Cas knows how to reassure her. The twins have had their whole lives to work out this deal. They understand each other enough that it goes unspoken between them now, this call and response of need and provision just another one of the countless ways they fit together. One of the countless ways they love each other.

Now it's being offered to Dean.

A brush-off's on the tip of his tongue-- _you know me, man, good days only_ \--but it sticks in his throat. He swallows it back. He leans up to kiss Cas, unable to keep meeting the sincerity in his gaze.


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes Dean drives through the town he's lived in for almost four years now, toward the house he's called home for nearly two, and feels the weight of being settled like a burr between his shoulderblades. He thinks about ignoring the turn onto his street. Thinks about accelerating onto the open highway and just _going_ , the purr of his baby at cruising speed as he aims at a horizon he'll never reach. He thinks about endless anonymous gas bars and dive bars and diners where all that's expected of him is that he'll pay in full for services rendered; where, at the end of the day, nobody expects him to stay. He thinks about the tired relief of ugly neon motel signs in the distance, and the cool comfort of a different empty bed every night.

Sometimes Dean hears his dad's voice in his head. No specific words, not really; more just the way he sounded. The frustration as he upbraided Dean for going through their cash too quickly, splurging too much at the grocery store, spoiling himself and Sammy while John was off looking for work. The annoyance as he drove them all away from the latest teacher or neighbour or social worker who'd started to pay close attention. The contempt as he taught Dean to target drunk college kids when hustling pool. The disgust as he mocked some queer kids laughing a little too loudly, being a little too flamboyant, with their friends.

Sometimes, while Jamie slaves over month-end reports and Cas grades seminar papers, Dean hunches over the bathroom sink scrubbing engine grease from under his fingernails and feels like a fraud. Feels unworthy. Feels the pendulum-chop of time ticking down to the moment the twins decide they're done slumming with him and cut him loose. Feels like he should make it easier on all of them and take off before they do, before all his bullshit wears them out.

One day, Dean brings home a rope.

They've fooled around before with Jamie's scarves and Cas's ties, slippery silk that looked pretty and knotted well enough but felt flimsy, too soft, too light. The rope has heft to it. It's smooth and not very thick, but it's solid, no-nonsense. Made for putting things in place and keeping them there. The twins' eyes light up when he shows it to them, which is all the approval Dean needs.

And then he finds out Jamie has some technique. "You should see Castiel all trussed up," she says, low and thoughtful, as she ties Dean's wrists together in a solid weave, winding the rope into thick cuffs that reach a broad handspan up his forearms. "We used to have this beautiful, sturdy rope, about as thick as this one, but dark blue. I tied it around his thighs, his shoulders, his arms. Wound it around his chest to make a line of knots up his spine." As she ties a knot between Dean's palms, her gaze sweeps speculatively over his body. The tip of her tongue flickers out over her bottom lip, leaving it damp. "I want to see you like that sometime, Dean. You'd look fucking incredible."

"You could do the one that uses the rope as a cock ring," Cas adds, coming up behind Jamie to tilt his head against hers, let his lips brush her ear. Cupping his hands to her breasts, he teases his thumbs over her nipples; she sighs, leaning into him. He gives Dean a considering look of his own that makes Dean's dick twitch against his belly. "Wrap him up like the gift he is, and then we could take turns sucking him. Make him come without untying him."

Jamie's eyes _gleam_. Turning to Cas, she licks his mouth open and kisses him deep and filthy. Dean fists his hands, feels his wrists snug up under the rope, and sinks his teeth painfully into his own lip.

He ends up on his back on the bed with his arms over his head, a short length of rope anchoring him to the headboard from the knot between his palms. It's not uncomfortable, but it's not exactly relaxing: there's give in the way Jamie tied his wrists together, but not much, and even with his elbows slightly bent Dean can feel the stretch of his arms all the way into his shoulders and back, opening up his chest, expanding his ribs with the pull. But he's bound, he's tethered, and fuck, that's what he wants. He tugs at the rope to feel it there, keeping him, while he watches Jamie open Cas up on her fingers.

And Jesus, what a pretty picture they make. Jamie's focus is absolute, her eyes on her fingers where they slide in and out of Cas's hole, sloppy with lube, rubbing and crooking and spreading him open for Dean's dick. Her mouth hangs distractedly slack, her breath heavy already; every once in a while she swallows, convulsively, and Dean thinks about how it feels to touch her throat when he comes in her mouth. Cas is breathing hard too, flushed from his temples to his navel, his hips moving in little jerks as he pushes himself onto the slow thrust and twist of Jamie's hand. Dean knows that as much as Jamie gets off on getting her brother inside her, Cas loves letting his sister into him, too. And they both get so fucking worked up when they get to touch each other for an audience.

Their audience gets plenty worked up, too. "C'mon," Dean grunts, watching the twins watch his arms straining over his head, his dick leaking onto his stomach. "Somebody fuckin'--get _on me_."

Cas is so damn gorgeous when he rides him. His mouth is kiss-bitten, and slack like Jamie's was; his thick thighs flex as he fucks himself on Dean's dick, controlled, unhurried. Savouring. He stares down at Dean, his eyes dark and covetous, and braces himself with his hands splayed on Dean's chest, his muscular arms tensing and easing, tensing and easing. From behind Cas, Jamie slips her hands over the blades of her brother's hipbones, down to his thighs, then back up. She curls one hand around the wet head of Cas's dick, her thumb bending to rub at his slit, while her other hand toys at the base of him, fingertips teasing his balls. Tucking her chin over Cas's shoulder, Jamie kitten-licks under his jaw before looking hungrily down at Dean.

Dean pulls on the rope and whines.

They look obscene, rocking above him with their matching messy dark hair and sharp cheekbones and ravening blue eyes. They feel obscene, Jamie taking one hand off Cas to drag her short nails through the precome spattered on Dean's belly, the knuckles of her other hand brushing against him while Cas's cock slides in her loose fist; Cas's ass hot and tight and so fucking sweet around Dean's dick. They're good to him, so damn good to him--they make him feel so _fucking obscene_ \--and Dean pulls uselessly against the rope, pulls so hard it aches through his arms to his shoulders to his back, and grits out, "Hit me."

Cas's rhythm falters. "What?"

"Hit me." Dean tips his chin up, looking from Cas's wide eyes to Jamie's and back again. He bucks his hips, trying to get Cas back in gear. "Slap my face. Do it hard, c'mon. Wanna feel it."

Cas doesn't move. His hands lay still on Dean's chest.

Jamie lifts her hands to rest tentatively on Cas's waist. "Dean--"

"Whatever I want, whenever I want it. You told me you'd give it to me, Cas, now come on." Dean hears how harsh he sounds, growling out demands. He can't help it. "Hit me!"

The furrow in Cas's brow eases. His expression shutters. Shifting slowly, he settles his weight on Dean's hips, sitting on him fully, holding him down. He takes his hands off Dean, finally, and Dean's breath catches, and he lifts his face for the blow--

\--and Cas flattens his hands deliberately on his own thighs. "Whatever you _need_ ," he corrects, careful but firm. "I said we'd give you what you need, Dean, when you need it. I don't think you need to be hurt right now."

"That's not--" But it is. Fuck. Dean stares up at them as Jamie comes out from behind Cas to kneel beside him, as they present him with a united fucking front of the kind of ruthless understanding he's only ever seen them turn on each other--only ever seen on _bad days_ \--and he shakes his head, refusing it. Refusing.

Because this, with them, it feels too good. Dean doesn't want to like it as much as he does. He doesn't want to love them as much as he does. They're brother and sister, for fuck's sake. They're _twins_. Twins who fuck, who need each other that much--and Dean doesn't give a shit about whether that's messed up, because he knows a little something about needing _that much_ \--and he knows they can't possibly love him like they love each other. Like he loves them.

He wants to want it less. He wants this--them--to be something he's ashamed of. "I need you to _hit me_ \--"

"Dean." Jamie puts her hand back on his heaving chest--thank fuck, because even as he tells himself he'd be better off if they were cruel to him, he needs them to touch him; even with Cas still seated on his dick he was starting to feel like they weren't going to _touch him_ again--and smooths it up and down his sternum. "Dean. We're not going to hit you because that's not something we talked about for tonight. What can we do instead? What do you need?"

Dean makes a frustrated sound and pulls at the rope hard enough that the bed creaks.

Jamie glances at the short length of tether pulled taut and unforgiving between Dean's fisted hands and the headboard. Her lips press into a thin line. She starts to reach up. "I'll untie you--"

"Don't--!" Dean's whole body goes rigid, desperation skittering up his spine at the thought of it. Of being let go. He looks from Jamie to Cas and finds his tension reflected back at him in the hard set of Jamie's jaw, the white in Cas's knuckles where he's still gripping his own thighs. Jamie's still poised to lean up to start undoing the knots. Cas has gone half-soft, his dick lying on Dean's belly.

They're worried about him.

Dean sags. All the fight rushes out of him like a deep exhale, leaving him lightheaded. He worried them. Shit. "Don't untie me," he says hoarsely. He shuts his eyes. He confesses: "Want to stay."

The twins are quiet.

Shame wells up in the hollows of Dean's body, hot and prickling. He's wrecked their night. He got needy, and selfish, and difficult. He turned them off with his left-field self-punishing bullshit, and he can't even bluff it off and salvage their good time because now he's losing his own damn hard-on, his dick starting to soften and slip inside Cas. He bites his lip where it's threatening to tremble, and waits for Cas to rise up off him, for Jamie to start plucking at her knots. Waits for them to cut him loose.

"Is that what you need, Dean?" The question is mild, but there's a rasp in Cas's voice that snags Dean's attention and hauls him out of his ugly, churning thoughts. He opens his eyes to find Cas looking down at him with his head tilted to the side. His face is unreadable, his expression still studiously neutral; but that tone in his voice, and the intensity of his focus, say he really fucking likes the view. "To be kept?"

"To be owned?" Jamie's wearing the same cool mask, has the same dark heat banking in her eyes. The same assessing tilt to her head as she flattens her hand on Dean's collarbone, presses her blunt fingertips at the base of his throat. Holds him down.

Leaning slowly forward, Cas smooths his broad palms up Dean's chest, over Jamie's restraining hand; up Dean's arms, onto the rope cuffing his wrists. He stops there, his body laid out above Dean in a long, sturdy stretch. He grips there, warm and square and solid through the bindings. He pins Dean with a look of concentrated want and raw authority, and in a voice like whiskey fumes, he asks, "To be ours?"

A fine tremor quakes under Dean's skin. He feels caught. Exposed. _Relieved._ He shouldn't be--they can't really mean it, they don't really understand; it feels too good and he doesn't fucking deserve it--but-- "...fuck. Yes."

"Good." And Cas sits back again, just like that. Resettles himself on Dean's hips, on Dean's rallying dick, like Dean's body's the seat of his goddamn ownership. Beside him, Jamie's lips curve, barely, with a hint of hidden satisfaction.

Something stupider than relief--hope, maybe--unfurls warmly beneath Dean's ribs.

Still gazing down at him, Cas cups his palm around his own cock. He skates his fingertips from base to crown, then starts rubbing himself, slow and intent, working himself back to full hardness. "Here's how we're going to show you you're ours, Dean," he says, and Dean, unprepared to hear it like that, all plain-spoken and obvious, drags in a ragged breath. "Jamie is going to suck bruises into your pretty freckled skin. All over you, so you'll see her mouth on you everywhere." The steadiness of Cas's voice is betrayed by the swell of his dick in his hand, the molten shift under his skin as his strokes go from purposeful to pleasurable. He rocks his hips, just a little, grinding on Dean's dick like a fucking taunt. "Then she'll ride your mouth until she comes on it. She'll be so wet, and she'll taste so good. She'll soak you, Dean, and you will swallow her."

Dean swallows automatically just from Cas saying it. His mouth is watering just at the thought of it, Christ. And then there's Jamie, tracing her fingertips over his lips, her eyes avid with anticipation. "And Cas," she says, rough-edged, undeniable, "Cas is going to fuck himself on your cock until he paints you with his come."

Cas's hips jolt. Fresh precome wells from his slit and drips onto Dean's belly.

Dean _keens_. "Oh fuck please--please--"

Jamie leans down and kisses him hard, biting his lip sharply as she pulls away. Cas's kiss follows immediately, the lush swipe of his tongue soothing Jamie's sting.

They give him what he needs.

Dean comes when they tell him to, with Jamie's taste thick and sweet in his mouth, Cas's spunk striped all over his chest, and his rope tied firm around his wrists.


End file.
